


we can follow the sparks, i'll drive

by thelilacfield



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drunk Texting, F/M, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:15:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28657821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: Her phone buzzes, and she carefully treads to get it, trying not to spill water. It’s probably Natasha again, saying that she made it safely to Bruce’s.[3:23am] Victor Shade: You can peg me
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118





	we can follow the sparks, i'll drive

**A/N:** I don't have one single excuse for this. But you are all welcome :D

I'm on twitter and tumblr **@mximoffromanoff** if anyone wants to chat about all things scarletvision! If you enjoy this filth, please leave me a comment and fuel my plans to write more of this kink

* * *

" _Shit_." She bends down to grab for the keys that slipped out of her hand, barely an inch from smacking her forehead into the handle. Head swimming with that final, ill-advised shot of tequila, she stumbles through the door and out of her shoes, tossing bag and coat to the ground in a tangled heap.

Her keys clatter somewhere on the ground, and she stumbles into the kitchen for a glass of water. Somewhere under the pile, her phone buzzes, and she carefully treads to get it, trying not to spill water. It's probably Natasha again, saying that she made it safely to Bruce's.

**[3:23am] Victor Shade: You can peg me**

She blinks down at her phone screen for a moment, some of the effects of the alcohol fading away now she's home and alone. The tiny profile photo of the guy from her class blinks up at her, the heavy black frames of his glasses and the curl of golden hair falling in his eyes. And it must be a joke. They've barely spoken to each other even as assigned project partners, aside from when he told her to call him Vision. He doesn't seem the type to even be awake at three am on a Friday night, let alone be messaging her with sexual offers.

**[3:25am] Wanda Maximoff: lol when**

And she wouldn't think any more of it. She leans on the counter, drinking her water and contemplating the growing ladder in her tights, her big toe poking through the hole where the rip starts. If she hadn't gotten another message, she would just move on.

 **[3:33am]** **Victor Shade: Whenever you want**

And that message lingers in her mind. She shouldn't leave him on read, but she does. When she throws her phone onto her nightstand, she still thinks about that message. Thinks about _him_ , the furrow in his brow when he concentrates in class, the way his hair falls in his eyes, those big hands moving over pages of notes in his cramped handwriting. He wraps around her increasingly inappropriate dreams as she imagines the soft way he says her name in class in a breathier voice.

On Monday morning, she walks into class and finds him sitting at their usual desk. And she can feel colour and heat collecting in her cheeks when she meets his eyes and he immediately ducks away from her gaze. He's wearing a perfectly fitted blue sweater, and she slides into the chair next to him almost silent. The hem of her skirt edges up her thigh when she sits down, and she hopes she's not imagining his eyes darting to and quickly away from the flash of skin above her socks and boots.

The tutor is rambling on about their project, reminding them of the deadlines and the importance of the project to their final grades. But she's looking at him, the way his hair falls over the frames of his glasses, his fingers on his pen, the attentive look on his face. He's always been so quiet with her that she thought better of her initial attraction to him. She thought he was one of those serious types, truly at college just to work his ass off and get his degree. But maybe she was wrong about him.

When the tutor dismisses them, he bolts out of the room before she can even take a breath to say anything to him, and she scrambles her books together, thinking. As she zips up her laptop sleeve and tucks it into her backpack, her phone vibrates against the desk with a message from her study groupchat, and she reaches for it, clicking back onto her message thread with Vision. The **You can peg me** stares up at her, a flush stealing up the back of her neck at reading it in the beige corridor of college, and she hastily sends him a message before she can second-guess herself.

**[4:55pm] Wanda Maximoff: Meet me at Starbucks in an hour? I wanna talk about work, we've only got two weeks to submit now.**

**[5:02pm] Victor Shade: Okay. At six?**

**[5:02pm] Wanda Maximoff: Sure. I'll be in a booth at the back.**

So she sets herself out in the booth waiting for him, wishing she could've gone home to change. But wearing something that she might think seductive would give away that she wants him, that she can't stop thinking about his message, and if she's any good judge of character she thinks that might scare him off. When he sits down in the booth with her and starts talking about their project, laying papers on the table, she watches the way he twitches his nose to hitch his glasses up and the way his hands move across the papers.

And then the words just tumble out of her, and ruin any illusion that she did invite him for coffee to talk about college. "So...about the text you sent me on Friday night-"

The tips of his ears immediately flame bright red, and those blue eyes dart to her before his gaze plants firmly on the paper in front of him. "I'm _so_ sorry," he whispers, his voice so quiet it's barely audible even to her. "I was with friends and they were encouraging me, and I was drunk, and when I drink I can...I tend to get a little...well, a little-"

"Horny?" she suggests, and the blush twists into his cheeks, flaming them a charming shade of pink. He stares down at his notes, and she reaches to gently wrap two fingers over his wrist. Their first skin to skin touch, his pulse fluttering beneath her fingers, his skin warm and soft, and she has to swallow thickly before she asks, "Did you mean it? Do you like me?"

He glances briefly at her, and the tiniest smile graces his soft lips. "I thought that was obvious," he says softly, and she blinks at him.

"I thought you hated me!" she says, and he stares at her. "You were always...you barely said a _word_ to me. I thought you didn't want to be partnered with me!"

"Oh, goodness, Wanda, _no_ ," he protests, and gives her that smile again. It lights up his eyes, illuminates the whole room, makes the grey day golden. "If I have been...odd with you, then it's been because...because the moment I met you I thought you were very pretty." His cheeks are still flaming red, but he swallows and says, "And I sent you that message because I was drunk. But that doesn't...it doesn't mean I didn't mean it."

"You really want to..." She trails off, glancing around at the people surrounding them. A group of teenagers who must have just gotten out of school, two women bouncing toddlers on their knees, an elderly couple holding hands over the teapot between them. "I don't think we can talk about it here."

"My apartment isn't far," he says softly, and she realises the promise hanging in the air between them, the negotiation that this is. And he's _winning_ , with those soft eyes and the way his fingers brushing hers sends a spark ricocheting through her. "And my roommate is staying with her girlfriend for the week. So we would be alone."

And she's being crazy. She knows she is, but he's so handsome, and when he leans down to get his bag she stares at his ass, the planes of his back, his shoulders beneath his sweater, and is practically drooling. So she follows him to his apartment, looks around at the subtle décor and the yellow cushions on the couch and the closed door of a bedroom. And he's dropping his backpack and looking at her before he glances away and says, "Um, so...we can work better here. Spread out the notes on the floor so we can properly. I vacuumed yesterday because we had friends over on Friday night, so don't worry, it's very clean-"

"Vision," she says softly, and unbuttons her coat, dropping it to the ground. And she's grateful she decided to wear a skirt today, for his eyes on her legs, and she sways towards him, his eyes going wide when she wraps her arms around his neck. "You know I didn't come here for our project. I know you didn't ask me here for our project."

"Wanda-"

"I liked you the second I saw you too," she says softly, and his mouth drops slightly. "I thought you were so cute, and earnest, and handsome. And ever since I read that message, you're all I can think about." She leans up onto her tiptoes in her pointed boots, toes crushing together for him, and breathes, "Now show me what you wanted."

She kisses him, and his hands are immediately in her hair, pressing their mouths closer together as his lips part above hers and she swipes her tongue between his lips. The sound of his groan sings through her, and she reaches down to unzip her boots and tug them off. Losing her heels puts precious inches between their mouths, and she tugs his hands down to curl around her thighs and lift her up against him. She wriggles her shoulders to lose her cardigan, dropping it on the ground, and breaks the kiss to breathe, "Show me your bedroom."

He's adorably fumbling carrying her to the bedroom, softly apologising when he rams her hip into the door handle and she hisses in pain. And she just whispers, "Kiss it better," and he blushes, succeeding in getting the door open. She closes it slamming him back against it, pulling his jumper over his head and crumpling it to the ground, and starts tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

They're on the bed soon enough, and she wriggles on top of him to get at the buckle of his belt and push her socks down, and he's gasping when she kisses his neck, his hand cradling the small of her back. "This is so fast," he whispers, caught up in a moan where her lips find the hollow between his collarbones. "Is is _too_ fast?"

"Do you want me?" she asks, and he nods, his eyes dark and glazed with lust. "Then it's not too fast."

"I don't even know your middle name," he says, and she rolls her eyes, kissing her way down his neck again and making him gasp.

"It's Magdalena," she says, and sits back on his thighs. "Now, where do you keep your sex toys?"

He blushes violently, and murmurs, "I...um..."

"I'm assuming you own a dildo, or you wouldn't proposition me like that," she says, and he's bright red. "Under the bed? That's where I keep my vibrators."

"In...in a box," he whispers, and she dives out of his lap to the floor, pulling out a seemingly innocent storage box made of yellow plastic. And she unearths a red dildo and a harness, and he's staring at her, stammering, "I, um...my ex used to...but I've washed everything, obviously, I-"

"Vision, I don't give a shit where it's been," she says, and drops dildo and harness next to them on the bed, climbing back into his lap and sliding her hands down his back. "I only care about where it'll _hopefully_ be going." She squeezes his ass suggestively, and he starts before he drags her back down into a kiss.

If she had thought reading his drunk text that she would end up actually in bed with him, she would've replied immediately. Although she probably would've had a lot more trouble with strapping herself into the harness drunk. And it's better to be sober, to remember the way his breath hitches when she pops open the cap on the bottle of lube. To watch the expression on his face when she presses her fingers into him, his gasps against her mouth, his hips writhing against her hand.

"You really want me to do this?" she asks softly when he's ready, when he's pleading against her lips. She pulls away and he's flushed and beautiful, spread out and desperate beneath her. "Vision, tell me."

"When I touch myself, I think about you doing this," he breathes, and she groans and leans down to kiss him, digging her teeth into his bottom lip and relishing in his moan. "Wanda, _please_."

"Turn over," she breathes, and he scrambles to obey her. He's perfect, the epitome of every fantasy she's ever dared to entertain, ass in the air for her, knuckles white clutching the pillow. She leans down to kiss a slow line down his spine before she presses into him, and he groans her name long and low into the sheets.

She's never dared suggest to a boyfriend they should try pegging. And she's glad for it, because Vision is the perfect partner. He's so responsive, writhing and moaning and pushing his hips back against her, and she speeds up the rhythm of her hips in time to his soft cries. She wants to do this over and over, in every conceivably safe position. He's perfect, the pale stretch of his back and the shadows of the lamp playing over his skin, and she tangles their fingers together to pull his hands together at the small of his back, rewarded with a groan of, " _Wanda_."

"You're perfect," she breathes into the hot, heady air between them, and slides her hand down to his erection, stroking him in time to the movement of her hips. He cries out her name, and she's transfixed the movement of his body, writhing desperately back against her.

When he comes, her name on his lips strikes through her like lightning, and she pulls out of him as gently as she can to throw the harness aside and lean down to kiss him. He's warm and pliable beneath her, an adorably dorky smile on his lips when she pulls away. "You're perfect," she repeats, and kisses him again.

"I really...I didn't plan for that," he says, and pulls her on top of him, toying with the clasp of her bra. "I didn't think you would _want_ to-"

"I would do it again anytime," she says, and leans down to kiss him. He unclasps her bra and pulls it out from between them, and the hungry way he stares at her sends heat shimmering into her stomach. "You don't have to-"

"I think I owe you one," he says softly, and pulls her onto her back, kissing so slowly down her stomach that her toes curl into his sheets. His eyes are shining and his face is flushed and marked with indents from the pillow, his hair a wild mess, and his swollen lips slant into a smirk right before he buries his handsome face between her thighs and she shrieks his name.

When he resurfaces, her thighs still quivering with aftershocks, she pulls him up into a kiss and breaks it briefly to say, "We're dating now, by the way."

"You...you really _want_ to-"

"Yes, I really want to," she says, and wraps her arms around him, running her fingers through his hair. "You're sweet and handsome and fucking amazing in bed. I want to get to know you and see where this goes." She smiles softly up at him and asks, "What's your middle name, by the way?"

"Alexander," he says softly, and cups a tender hand to her face. For them having just had sex prompted by a drunk text, he's being so gentle that her heart sings. "Um...what's your favourite colour?"

"Red," she says, and his eyes slant to the abandoned dildo, pink flooding into his cheeks. "Oh, not just because of that. Though I love it even more now." She runs a hand down his chest, and asks, "What's yours?"

"Yellow," he says, then smiles down at her. "Though your eyes are giving me quite the appreciation for green."

"See, where has this flirting been all this time?" she asks. "We could've been having sex since the start of the semester instead of having to wait for you to get drunk and make the first move."

"Well, I'll be sure to tell my girlfriend what I want to do in bed when I think of it from now on," he says, and she beams up at him and pulls him down into another kiss.


End file.
